Girl Gang
by HalcyonSeasons
Summary: Leah Clearwater has some serious emotional issues - what better way is there to cope than forming a musical group with three other girls instead of getting the therapy she deeply needs? Music industry, coming-of-age, feminist AU.
1. 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Twilight_ or anything else that may look familiar.

* * *

 _ **Girl Gang**_

 **1.**

Leah Clearwater felt the sun's heat radiate on to her skin through the open window of Paul Lahote's old pickup truck. She had shitty luck so life usually sucked ass, but right now, it wasn't so bad.

It was a Saturday in the middle of July, and Leah was about to do hoodrat stuff with her love.

Well, once they finally got off the side of the road.

Nineteen years old, freshly jobless, and unbothered, Leah watched Paul struggle to start up the engine. Beads of sweat ran down his chiseled face as he cussed underneath his breath at the truck, and he looked like heaven. Frustrated, irritated heaven.

"You sure you don't want any help?" she asked him semi-teasingly. She didn't know the first thing about cars—she just hated dead air.

"I know my truck," he muttered, his tone even more agitated.

"Alright, alright," she said dismissively, not even acting like he believed him. Her big, brown eyes fell towards the empty, open road—the main road on the Quileute reservation of La Push. There it was again. The dead air.

 _Nobody is ever here_ , she thought. _Nobody except me and Paul and this dead fucking truck._

Paul desperately attempted to bring some life into the truck, but all it could do was sputter. Still unbothered, Leah laughed to herself. She just couldn't be mad. It was nice out and he looked too funny.

"Whatcha laughing for?" he asked her.

"Lemme try," she told him.

"Nah," Paul replied curtly, still focused on doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

"For real, lemme try it out," Leah insisted.

Paul looked up at her, squinting in the sunlight. "I know my truck," he repeated.

She pursed her lips at him in a way that said, _Trust me._

Paul finally gave up and let Leah reach over to turn the key in the ignition. She turned it once, twice, three times—and then the engine roared to life. Paul stared at her in disbelief.

"Midas touch," she told him with a coy smile.

He pulled out a cigarette from the pack sitting on the dashboard and lit up. He took a long drag before finally turning to her. "You ready, baby girl?"

"You know I'm ready."

He pulled off the side of the empty dirt road, turned up the volume knob on his sound system, and started to head east.

Going 60 miles an hour in the once-pleasant streets of Forks was a chance that Paul and Leah always took. The dinky little town didn't seem so boring once it was blurred out her window, once it had some color painted to it with the hip-hop that Paul bumped through his speakers.

It was fun, swerving around cars and just barely avoiding pedestrians. Nobody could touch Leah—not when she was with Paul. He made her feel invincible. Superhuman. Behind her shades, with the wind blowing her dark hair all over the place, she felt like God.

They continued to drive further east, towards Port Angeles. The open road was wider and more unwavering as they moved closer to Port Angeles. They didn't feel so jarring, so empty. They felt promising. And that made all the difference.

Her gaze fell over her crazy, hot-headed, sandbox days love. He hadn't shaved in a while—his attractive face was stubbly, just the way she liked it. She reached her hand out to his cheek and rubbed her thumb against it tenderly.

Leah didn't mind that Paul's shitty sound system didn't do the music on her phone any type of justice. She was just happy to be with him, on the road. She sang along with the music, her voice silky and soft.

 _If I didn't ride blade on curb, would you still love me?  
If I made up my mind at work, would you still love me?  
Keep it a hundred, I'd rather you trust me than to love me  
Keep it a whole one hund': don't got you, I got nothing_

Paul took her hand from his face and kissed the back of it, holding it tightly. She smiled at him, and he looked to her, smiling back. Even though he was pushing 75 miles per hour, he leaned over to Leah and kissed her. He kissed her deeply, softly, without any fear.

He didn't fear anything, and when she was with him, neither did she.

They ended up at the mall in Port Angeles. Leah didn't come here too often—it was too far, and she never had any money. She wasn't very similar to Paul in that way. He always did things without a plan—he'd buy concert tickets without a ride to the venue, buy an expensive wallet with no money to put in it, and use that lack of money to take his girl to the mall. He was a walking contradiction in that way. So unpredictable.

Just the way Leah liked him.

They aimlessly strolled through the various stores. As erratic as Paul could be, one thing with him was constant: he loved Leah. (Only when they hung out, though; his texting habits were terrible.) He held onto her ostentatiously as they walked around. She thought couples like them were corny, but she still liked it. And she knew for sure that he was genuine because they hadn't even had sex yet.

They entered a store dedicated to cheap and fun accessories, where a pair of large gold hoops caught her eye. The earrings were beautiful, with _babygirl_ inscribed in the center of them in cursive letters. Leah had more than enough pairs of hoops—she was wearing her favorite pair right now—but these were too fucking gorgeous.

"You like those?" he asked her, noticing the earrings that had caught her eye.

She nodded, peering at the plastic tag the earrings were stuck through. They were $7.99. Seven dollars and ninety-nine cents (plus tax) that she didn't have.

"Do you want 'em?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she said. She looked up at him with an interested smile. "You wanna get them for me?"

"I've got you," he told her. Then he peered around the store, making sure nobody was watching him. He took the earrings and stuffed them into his pocket.

Her smile quickly faded away and she rolled her eyes, her trademark.

He grabbed her hand. "Come on, baby girl," he said, hurrying them out of the store.

"You are so _annoying_!" she said once they were far enough, trying not to laugh.

"Yeah, but at least I got your earrings, right? You like that romantic shit."

"I don't even know why I expected you to buy them," Leah admitted as they began to head to the food court.

He smirked at her—it was the same smirk she'd known her whole life, and it felt like home.

Night had fallen and had stayed fallen for hours by the time Paul parked his truck down the street from Quil Ateara's house, back on outskirts of the rez, just on the inside of Forks territory. Leah and Paul had known Quil—like everyone from around here did—forever. La Push and this general area was too tight. Too close-knit.

Regardless, though, Leah could never say no to a good party.

Quil was such a _character_. He was the kind of guy who had watched _Project X_ back when it first came out and promised to throw a rager of the same magnitude… except it wasn't 2012 anymore and he was still obsessed with the movie. Subsequently, he threw a lot of parties. He and his roommates—Embry Call and Jacob Black—thought they were the shit.

Their house, locally referred to as the Blue Mansion, wasn't actually painted blue; it was actually white. The name was just cool, blue lights illuminated the front sometimes, and allegedly, somebody had gone into cardiac arrest at a party there once. (Leah _really_ didn't like how the "code blue" part had stuck.) The Blue Mansion was _the_ party house, but Quil frequently used it to promote his music. He was a budding rapper (and not that good, in all honesty), but Leah and Paul got lucky tonight—they arrived well after Quil performed.

Leah stuck the _babygirl_ earrings into her ears as Paul prepared some lines of coke. He chopped at the powder with a straight razor like the badass that Leah idolized him to be. She'd only done coke once before—the high had been too short, and she was too broke and too smart make a habit out of it.

"Shouldn't we have smoked first?" she inquired, her voice low.

"Nah, I wouldn't worry about it," he told her.

"Why's that?"

"I'm gonna send you flying regardless," he promised.

And within minutes, she was.

The rest of the night was a blur. An omniscient trap music-filled, _dizzy-dizzy-high_ blur. The kind of blur where all the music and the cocaine and the tequila kisses and the emotions and the _Paul_ and the _Leah_ and the _them_ all became one incoherent dream. Leah was soaring.

Somehow, she and Paul ended up on the battered roof of the Blue Mansion. She could feel the bass from the house pulsating through her body as she stared up at the stars. Everything could be a simulation—her high, Paul, her entire sense of self—but the music was always real. So she was real. It was all she knew.

"What do you feel?" he asked her, his rough voice just above a whisper.

"Everything," she assured him. In this moment, life wasn't so bad. When she really considered it, it was almost sweet. Purely sweet, like honey. Her high was started to fade away, but even then, the sweetness wasn't artificial. It was all real, like her and the music.

She couldn't recall Paul moving towards her but suddenly, his lips were on hers and she couldn't complain.

Everything with Paul was usually so rough—he _lived_ rough. But in this moment, he was finally soft. He wasn't usually soft when he was drunk and high, so maybe, in some form of reality, he wasn't actually this soft. But he felt that way to her. Soft, warm heaven on top of the Blue Mansion.

He wasn't shy with his tongue, his most dangerous weapon. It moved confidently with hers, tracing the curves of her mouth.

He knew her and what she wanted the most. It was almost embarrassing how much he was so in tune with her.

With Leah under Paul, and the bass under them, they remained on the same wavelength, kissing and pretending like there was nothing wrong in the world.

They couldn't pretend forever, though.

The police sirens jolted Leah, making her disconnect from Paul's body entirely. The bass underneath them paused, and the house was suddenly quiet. The two of them looked down at the ground, where three cop cars had pulled up to the house. One of them was nearly in the front lawn. The officers got out and started to walk to the front door, ignoring Leah and Paul.

They carefully and quickly moved to get down from the roof. Leah went first to scale down a ladder on the side of the house.

 _Huh, I guess this is how we got up here,_ she thought.

"Could you hurry up?" he asked her as he climbed down above her, his voice too close to giving them away.

"Could you shut up?" she snapped back, her voice just above a whisper. "I'm almost down." She was still drunk, which explained why she was moving so slowly.

They made it down and snuck around to the back of the house. Oddly enough, they were the only ones hiding outside from the police. Leah briefly peered through the glass door. Only Quil, Jacob, and Embry were there—surrounded by empty plastic cups and other garbage, of course—talking to a few officers as they usually did every time they had a party.

Leah focused a little more, and that was when she realized that one of the officers they were talking to was Charlie Swan, the chief of the Forks Police Department.

And her mom's boyfriend.

 _Oh, fuck._

She felt even dizzier.

Leah turned back to Paul. "We've gotta get out of here," she whispered to him urgently.

"Alright, let's go," he said.

They stealthily moved to the front of the house and started to walk down the street towards Paul's truck when he suddenly stopped in his tracks to pat down his own pockets. "Shit," he muttered to himself. "Shit, shit, shit."

" _Please_ tell me you didn't lose your keys," she said.

"I don't think they're lost," he countered, still checking all of his pockets. "They're probably back at the house."

She crossed her arms, trying to ignore her churning stomach. "So they're lost," she concluded.

"That's not what I fuckin' said," he replied, his voice growing more annoyed and angry.

"Whatever, Paul."

Paul just gave up and turned around, cutting through trees and neighbors' backyards to get back to the house. And naturally, she waited for him.

"Leah?" a new voice suddenly piped up from behind her.

She sighed deeply as she turned around to face Chief Swan. "Hi, Charlie," she said curtly, trying not to act as drunk as she was while also trying to ignore her stomach, which grew more and more upset as the time passed.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm minding my business. You should try it," she retorted. She took a step back, stumbling on the sidewalk pavement and just barely avoiding cracking her head open.

"Okay, Leah, we've got to get you home," Charlie said, keeping his cool and approaching her with his arms out. "You're drunk."

"Don't fucking touch me!" she slurred.

"We've _got_ to get you home," he repeated.

There it was. The vomit. It was coming up. Right now.

"Fuck you, bitch," she got out before the vomit came spilling right onto his shoes.

* * *

Leah's next memory was waking up in her bed at her mother's house. Her head pounded violently and while she didn't remember much of last night, she could feel the impending regrets.

She sat up and glanced over at her windowsill, where a glass of water sat on it. She realized just how parched her throat was and reached for it. After downing the glass instantly, she still felt like shit, just less dehydrated.

Her mother—like an all-knowing omen—called her name from the kitchen, and that was when she was in trouble.

She hopped out of her bed, stepping on the sneakers she wore the night before. "Fuck," she mumbled. She padded her way off to the kitchen, being carried by the scent of bacon and, of course, more regrets.

Thankfully, it was just her mother Sue and her sixteen-year-old brother Seth in the kitchen. Seth sat at the table, his eyes down at his cell phone as he played a video game. Sue was in her general mood: pissed.

"Hey…" Leah greeted them uneasily.

"Before I get to your punishment, you wanna try and explain yourself?" Sue asked from behind the breakfast bar, her voice sharp.

"I guess there isn't much to explain," Leah admitted, standing on the other side of the kitchen. "I mean, I've already been caught."

"I told you to stay away from that house," Sue said as she diced up potatoes. "Shit, I told you to stay away from Paul."

Leah had already given up, but it didn't matter. Nothing really did, anyway. "How do you know it was Paul?"

Sue threw the potatoes in the saucepan and then glanced up at her. "It's not that hard to figure out."

"I mean, that's valid." Leah's voice was blunt.

"Do you not care at all that you called Charlie a bitch?"

Seth snickered.

Leah shrugged. "I personally thought was a power move."

"This is the fifth time this summer that you've acted up like this, Leah. It's _July_. I don't know what the fuck to do with you."

"You could've just let Charlie arrest her," Seth piped up.

Sue just sighed. "I could've," she admitted. "Underage drinking is serious. Leah, honey, I just want you to be okay, you know? Make some good decisions. Do something with your life."

"Okay, _High School Musical_ ," Leah said breezily.

"That's exactly the shit I'm talking about," Sue said, her voice stern. "You've been so disrespectful lately. What is your problem? Please enlighten me."

"Honestly, Mom," Leah began slowly with her brown eyes wide, "I think I need therapy."

Sue and Seth erupted into a fit of snickers, and that was Leah's cue to return to her room. That was the closest she'd ever gotten to saying, _No, I'm still not okay with you dating Charlie literally a year after Dad died._ But she didn't want to fight anymore; she had enough pent-up anger already. She really did need therapy, and this wasn't helping.

So she went to her room, shut the door, fell into bed, and went to the only therapy she knew: Twitter.

She scrolled through the blue hellsite, retweeting harmless jokes about famous singers and just liking the more cruel ones so she would be less likely to be exposed by her followers.

Leah could spend hours here on her timeline (and she frequently did). It was the only place that could make her laugh consistently, and it was also the only place where she truly felt noticed. She didn't find herself to be pretty enough for Instagram, but her 25,000 Twitter followers didn't care if she was pretty or not. (They also didn't really pay any attention to her selfies, which honestly weren't that bad, but whatever.) They didn't even care that she was a poor Quileute girl who lived on a reservation. They just liked her jokes about vapid, air-headed pop stars. They liked her for _her._

So she was definitely attached to the app. It was depressing, but it was what she needed, especially since therapy wasn't an option.

An hour had passed by the time Leah got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, all in an effort to feel like a human being again. She got ready to hop in the shower, and she was almost fully stripped before she realized she needed to queue up a playlist. Her Bluetooth speaker was four years old and albeit shitty, but it accomplished what it was meant to do, which was to be her sweet escape. And, anyway, her father had bought it for her.

Leah quickly queued songs that matched her current mood. All she knew was that she was hungover and moderately upset.

Fully stripped and under the hot water, Leah cranked up the music and could actually let go.

 _Why is it so hard to accept the party is over?  
You came with your new friends  
And her mom jeans and her new Vans  
And she's perfect and I hate it, oh so glad you made it  
I'm so glad you could come by..._

Her rich tone complemented SZA's emotional crooning. Leah had heard the alleged story behind this song once before—it was awful. The single saddest thing she'd ever heard. And the more Leah listened to this depressing song, the more she felt like she resonated with the story. It was almost like she had been there. She thought of it as Scorpio solidarity.

 _Sorry, I just need to see you  
I'm sorry I'm so clingy, I don't mean to be a lot  
Do you really wanna love me down like you say you do?  
Give it to me like you say you do?  
'Cause it's hard enough you got to treat me like this  
Lonely enough to let you treat me like this  
Do you really love me  
Or just wanna love me down, down, down, down?_

Through the anguish of it all, Leah washed off the past. She washed off yesterday in its entirety. The heat, the drugs, the embarrassment. The fact that she knew damn well that Paul was awake, but he hadn't texted her all morning. Did he care about what happened to her last night? Did he even want to know? No matter how loved he made her feel when they were together, his absence and lack of communication killed her spirit in its entirety.

 _Why am I thinking of him so much?_ she asked herself, idly singing along to her sad shower playlist as she deep conditioned her hair. _He's not thinking of me. Or maybe he is._

She battled with herself over this for the duration of her shower. She eventually felt like a human being again by the time she got out and brushed her teeth, but it didn't even matter once she checked her phone.

No texts from Paul. No calls. No nothing.

Leah double texted him, deleted the conversation, crawled back into bed, and logged into Twitter to numb the pain.

Because it was Sunday and Sue didn't care how embarrassed Leah was, Charlie still came over for dinner. Leah could tell they were trying to make a tradition, but she wasn't here for it. It was bad enough that Charlie frequently made a point that he was trying to ease his way into the family, but it was worse because he had a daughter who was Leah's age, and she frequently joined them for Sunday dinner. She was just as uncomfortable about it as Leah and Seth.

Bella Swan was a good girl. Leah thought she was a little boring, but at least she was decent for a stepsister-in-training. She got along well with Seth, who generally wasn't that hard to get along with, anyway. Sue even had told Leah she should be more like Bella a few times.

(It was that bad.)

Leah just didn't see it, though. All she saw was a boring white girl. No, she hadn't made much of an effort to get to know her, but what was there to know? She had the basics down: her dad was a police officer trying to infiltrate her family, and she didn't season the food she cooked for Sunday dinner.

At the dinner table, in front of Bella's unseasoned baked potatoes and Sue's steak, Leah silently tried to figure Bella out. Sue, Charlie, and Seth engaged in conversation over sports or something, and Leah just stared at Bella, whose gaze was subtly down in her lap, toward her cell phone. She typed at lightning speed.

 _Must be important,_ Leah thought.

"So what do you girls think?" Sue asked, snapping Leah and Bella back to attention.

"Think about what?" Bella replied.

"All of us moving in together," Sue told her, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "We found a cute little place right outside Forks. Four bedrooms and in our price range, too."

" _Huh_?" Leah asked incredulously. "Are you serious? Like, for real?"

Sue nodded, taking a bite of her steak. "For real. Charlie's place needs to get some work done, anyway."

Leah just furrowed her brows. "I don't think that qualifies buying a house."

"I don't think you know much about buying houses," Sue retorted.

"So you two are moving in together regardless?" Bella asked Charlie and Sue for clarification.

"Yes," Charlie said. "We're trying to take the next step, and our house is just too old. You're not obligated to stay, but there'll still be room for you." He turned to his stepchildren-in-training. "There's room for all of you."

"I guess I better start looking at apartments, then," Bella said dismissively.

"Me, too," Leah added, suddenly surprised that she was actually agreeing with this girl. "Can I be excused?"

"You didn't even touch your baked potato," Sue pointed out.

"I guess I'm not that hungry," Leah replied, getting up from her chair. She quickly made her way to her bedroom. She didn't know what she had to do to cope with this bullshit—all she knew was that she had to _get away._

As she angrily scrolled through Twitter with her stomach grumbling, Leah's mind was racing. She didn't know how to process all of this. It felt like a sick dream.

 _What the fuck?!_

 _Mom might as well dig Dad's body up herself and tell the corpse she hates him to his face._

 _THE AUDACITY OF IT ALL._

Sure, Leah was prone to never getting over anything (as it was in her Scorpio nature), but her father, Harry, had passed away from a heart attack only a year ago. Sue was moving on and acting like nothing had happened, and so was Seth. It just didn't make sense.

All of these thoughts made Leah's stomach hurt. She supposed she could actually start looking for apartments, but who would she live with? Bella? Paul, if he decided to answer his phone? She didn't even have a fucking job.

As much as Leah knew she didn't really _need_ anybody, she really needed a best friend right now. Her 25,000 followers just weren't the same.

And as much as she had hated the bit of high school she'd attended before she had dropped out because of its boring, repetitive nature, she really fucking missed Kim right now.

Kim Conweller had been Leah's best friend from middle school to their junior year of high school. She had always been Leah's better half: thoughtful, charming, pretty (like, Instagram pretty), not an asshole. They had been super close up until Leah had dropped out, and their true differences were revealed. Kim's parents were really stuck-up—they hadn't approved of their straight-A daughter being associated with a dropout.

Leah had assumed that Kim just hadn't cared enough to keep up the friendship, and it was unfortunate, but that was life. Leah didn't need anybody.

She just really wanted somebody to talk to.

But instead, she had Twitter and R&B, and that was what she had to work with.

Sometime later in the evening, Leah heard a loud knock on her bedroom door. She removed her earbud and said, "Come in."

Her mother entered the room while simultaneously lugging a large rectangular box. The box seemed heavy, seeing as Sue had to drag it in. Before she could set it down, Leah already saw what it was.

"A keyboard?" she asked, sitting up in her bed. "What for?"

"It's a digital piano, technically," Sue corrected her.

"Still, though," Leah replied. "What for?"

"Listen, Leah," Sue began once she set the box down on the carpet. She put her hands on her hips, a stance that the Clearwater women were both fond of doing. "I know you've got an attitude about everything, and I know damn well you can sing."

Leah's tone was nonchalant. "Okay."

"So with this keyboard, you better suck it up and get creative."

Before Leah could say anything else, Sue left her bedroom.

Leah got out of bed to inspect the box. It was super fucking heavy, and it had the tape and everything on it—it was brand new.

 _Charlie probably put her up to this_ , she decided. _I know we don't have the money to be wasting it on keyboards._

Upon further inspection, she realized that it wasn't just a keyboard—digital piano—either. It came with a stand, headphones, microphone, and empty notebook. Sue (and probably Charlie) didn't just want her to sing songs. They wanted her to write and record songs, too.

Leah, alone in her bedroom, just laughed to herself. She was going to tweet about it until, when she unlocked her phone, she saw she had a text from Paul.

 _After all this fucking time,_ she thought.

She quickly opened the message. She wasn't sure why she was waiting for something romantic.

 _Was knocked out all day lmao anyway wyd?_

She just left him on "read" and started to set up the keyboard.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** Welcome to Girl Gang. This story is just a fun little project that I'm really writing for my best friend LadyBlackwater. It's not that groundbreaking and it's not that serious, especially since the Twilight fandom on here is basically dead. Here are some things to know about this fic:_

 _-It's an all-human AU (obviously)._

 _-Rated M for language, drug use, alcohol, sex, and the like. Trigger warnings will be added when appropriate._

 _-I don't know how long this is gonna be or how often I'll update and y'all are not gonna pester me about it._

 _-There will be plenty of nods toward my old fics because I can. Gang gang._

 _-It's not that serious, seeing as there's Twitter and general millennial lingo here because I'm 20 and I wanna have fun with this story._

 _That being said... let's roll, girls._

 _-HalcyonSeasons_


	2. 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Twilight_ or its characters or anything else that may be familiar in this story. I don't own shit.

 _ **A/N** : Hey, y'all! Sooo, I'm kind of sorry for taking so long to update. In between my postings of chapters 1 and 2, I had to start preparing for finals and I also went through a breakup, lmaooo. Life has been rough. But this story is gonna reflect my pain and my feelings and all that shit. If I take too long to update again, it's whatever. The real ones will stay for the ride._

 _That being said, here's chapter 2 of Girl Gang. Happy birthday to Ctrl by SZA, the only album that will never age for me._

* * *

 **2.**

Sue and Charlie wasted no time moving houses within the following month. Sue was usually meticulous in her decisions, always thinking the details through. Leah didn't know how Charlie had managed to change her, but it was the quickest that Leah had ever seen her mother do anything.

The "cute little place right outside Forks" wasn't little, and it was hardly cute. The house was mostly wooden, spacious, and rustic. It was older, too, and there were a few repairs that had to be done. (Charlie referred to it as a "real fixer upper," which made Leah feel like a white girl in a scary movie that took place in a haunted house.)

The house was two stories, had four bedrooms, a loft, and a basement that still had to be furnished. It even had a large deck outside, but there was still work there that had to be done, too.

Leah was carrying in her last cardboard box from Bella's old, red pickup truck when she asked Sue, "Didn't you say Charlie's place needed some work done? Why'd we move when everything here needs work, too?"

"Mind your business," Sue replied.

Leah sighed in response and made her way up to her new bedroom. Because she and Bella were "grown" and wouldn't be around the house a lot, they had gotten the smaller bedrooms, while Seth had gotten the biggest one that wasn't the master bedroom. Leah's isolated box of a room was situated in the corner of the house, furthest away from the staircase. It was to the left of Seth's room, and on the other side of the bathroom from Bella's room.

While Leah had talked about moving out, she had quickly faced reality when she'd realized that she didn't have a job (since she'd just quit at the coffee shop in Forks) and that she didn't have anybody to live with in an apartment. She sure as hell wasn't going to live with Bella, not like Bella would want to live with her, anyway.

All Leah had was this new room and her Twitter feed and her keyboard and her music.

Over the past month, Leah had quickly learned the basics of the piano (well, keyboard). Anything was possible with the Internet, and it turned out, she had a good ear. She could learn songs by ear once she got a good idea of the chords down, and while she loved singing covers (especially of Christina Aguilera), she wasn't brave enough to upload them to YouTube or share them with her Twitter followers. She just sang them, thought to herself, "Not bad," and carried on. It wasn't getting her anywhere, but she wasn't too fond of time, anyway. It was never on her side.

She was so out of tune with time that she didn't realize how late it was until Bella stormed up the stairs of the new house and slammed the door to her bedroom. She slammed the door so hard that Leah's phone got knocked off the keyboard. Leah turned away from her keyboard, took her headphones off, and reached for her phone. That was when she realized it was 3AM.

 _Damn_ , she thought.

Bella's voice was audible despite being so far away. "You're a _crackhead_ , Edward," she said angrily. "No, I'm not gonna take that back! You have nothing going for you and honestly, I'm over it. Go fuck yourself."

It took Leah a minute to decide whether to tweet about this or go see what was going on (and she was _so close_ to tweeting about this), but her heart got in the way instead. She set her phone down and started to make her way to Bella's room. This had to be serious and while she didn't particularly care for the girl, she somehow felt inclined to check in on her.

She crossed the hallway and knocked softly on the door. Bella quickly swung the door open, and Leah was suddenly looking down at the shorter girl. Her eyes were red and watery, and ironically, high tempo, cheery pop music was playing in the background from what Leah assumed was a speaker.

 _In the beginning I thought you were amazin'  
And none of my friends could stop me from chasin' you  
I was too blind to see through all the flames, babe  
Now, I don't wanna care anymore_

"Are you okay?" Leah asked, and she immediately regretted even asking.

"No," Bella said bluntly.

 _Okay, yeah, obviously_.

"Well, if it helps," Leah said, "I also know what it's like dealing with crackheads. They're the worst."

"Why do you even care?" Bella asked sharply, her arms crossed over her chest. She was still really hurt over whatever had happened, Leah could tell. The conflicting pop music didn't make this situation any less strange.

"Oh, I don't care at all," Leah replied, saving face. "I was just on my way to the kitchen but you stormed up here yelling about crack." She shrugged and started to head to the stairway, effectively leaving the conversation there.

 _God, that's the last time I'll check on anybody_ , she decided.

Leah headed down to the kitchen knowing damn well that Sue didn't like anyone eating at 3AM, but she needed to continue to save face. She wasn't sure why she'd even thought that checking on Bella was a good plan. Why was she supposed to care? She wasn't related to the girl, and she definitely didn't have to be friends with her. She could keep dealing with her crackhead boyfriend, for all she cared.

Leah peered into the pantry, locating a half-empty box of Cheez-Its that was about to expire. When she closed the pantry door, she looked up to see Bella casually entering the kitchen, cradling her cell phone.

"He's not a crackhead," she clarified, setting her phone down on the granite countertop and opening up the refrigerator door. She pulled out the carton of orange juice and made her way to the cabinet to pick out a glass. "He does coke."

"Same thing," Leah replied, gnawing on the Cheez-Its.

"I just broke up with him," Bella told her, pouring her glass of orange juice. "Again. He wants to be The Weeknd so bad, and I'm tired of it."

"You sounded pretty tired of it when you were on the phone," Leah agreed. "And The Weeknd sucks, anyway. I wouldn't be so hung up over some guy who wants to be like him."

"It's hard, though," Bella admitted before taking a sip from her glass. All her previous coldness was replaced with something warmer, a bit softer. Maybe in the minute she'd spent away from Leah, she'd decided that it was rude to come sideways at a stepsister of sorts over something that wasn't even her fault.

Leah was receptive, though. As fixed and cold as she could be, she'd play along if Bella would. "I feel you," she said. "I've been on and off with my boyfriend forever."

"Paul, right?" Bella asked.

"How'd you know?"

"Your mom complains about him. A lot."

Leah rolled her eyes. "Naturally."

Bella giggled, and Leah couldn't help but giggle, too.

"Well, crack or coke," Leah said after a moment of silence, "you shouldn't deal with it. Men suck."

"We'll see, I guess," Bella said with a small sigh. She glanced at her cell phone, sitting on the counter. It was like she was waiting for the screen to light up, waiting for a sign. Leah resented herself for recognizing the behavior.

 _Is this just part of being nineteen?_ she wondered. _Waiting and waiting for someone who doesn't even really matter that much?_

Bella's phone vibrated aggressively against the countertop, lit up with an incoming call from a contact named "E" with several heart emojis next to it.

"Don't pick up the phone," Leah murmured instinctively, to no one in particular.

And Bella left it vibrating until the call was ultimately missed. "You're right," she said to Leah. "I know he's only calling because he's fucked up and alone, anyway."

"Ugh, I hate men," Leah scoffed, closing up the box of Cheez-Its and putting it back into the pantry for Seth to find expired sometime later.

"What a mood," Bella replied bleakly, putting the orange juice carton back into the refrigerator. She then grabbed her phone and returned upstairs.

Leah leaned back against the counter, her arms crossed and her gaze on the wooden floor.

 _This bitch is so weird._

Within the next few days, Bella had moved out to go live with Edward. It didn't make sense to Leah, and at the same time, it made all the sense in the world.

* * *

Toward the end of August, Leah had secured a job as a waitress. While Sue was glad Leah had managed to "suck it up and get creative" with the keyboard, she had also constantly been on her ass about getting a job and being a productive member of society.

Leah was used to being a waitress, and she was used to the drive to Port Angeles in Sue's car, but she wasn't sure about working as a waitress at a strip club in Port Angeles.

When she'd applied, she'd been desperate, and the man who had interviewed her—a skeezy being named James who resembled a rat more than a human—had tried very, _very_ hard to convince her to work as a dancer at the club instead. While Leah didn't have two left feet, she could not see herself up on a pole. She had always seen pole dancing as an art—even more so now that she worked at a club—and she would only embarrass herself.

While James remained creepy, Leah didn't mind working at Club 360. It was a sad place with drunk dancers and even drunker customers, as most strip clubs were, but she worked long nights and made her money. She wasn't close with any of her coworkers—certainly not the dancers. The dancers and waitresses were kind of segregated, but Leah didn't care. She stayed sober and did her job.

Leah's first two weeks at Club 360 flew by. Before she had even gotten a physical paycheck, she had raked in enough tip money to buy a good amount of weed from her plug, Quil, but she didn't even had the time to take a smoke break. It felt good being this busy. She felt productive, she finally felt in control, and she felt like she wasn't just wasting daylight anymore. And because she was so busy, she didn't have the time to be sad over Paul. For those first two weeks, he was completely dead to her.

If only he hadn't dug himself out of his grave.

Leah was just leaving work in the early morning hours of a Wednesday when Paul called her up. She had gotten used to ignoring his calls and texts, but she slipped up tonight, answering out of instinct rather than using her head.

"Hello?" she asked into her phone, entering her mother's 1999 Honda Civic, in which Sue was generous enough to let her borrow for work, since both Charlie and Sue worked in Forks and could manage with one car.

"Leah," Paul said, his voice husky and smooth. Her own name was her second favorite song by Paul, right after his nickname for her, "baby girl."

"Hey, Paul," she replied casually. She sat down in the driver's seat and locked the doors.

"What are you up to?"

"Just got off work."

"It's 3AM," he told her, as if she didn't already know that.

"And?" she asked. "You're the one who's calling me."

"Where do you work now?"

"I'm a waitress at the strip club over in Port Angeles."

Paul laughed way too loud considering the time. "You're a virgin working at a strip club?" he asked like it was the most comedic thing in the world.

"You're a whore with no job," she retorted, rolling her eyes. "I don't get what you're trying to tell me."

"You know I'm out here trapping. And what I'm trying to say is," he began. Then he paused, like he was still thinking of the reason why he called her. "I wanna see you."

"I'm busy," she quickly said. It hurt denying him so quickly, but she was in so much control of her life right now that she vied to keep it.

"You said you just got off work."

"And if I see you tonight you're just gonna make me late to work tomorrow. I gotta go home, Paul."

"Come home to me." His voice was sad and sweet and begging.

"I… I gotta go," she repeated.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, then," he decided.

She sighed. "I work tomorrow night, too."

"Then when are you free again?"

"Why don't you get a real job?" she suggested.

"Baby girl, I'm just trying to see you!" he said, exasperated. "You've been avoiding me hella bad."

"I just told you I've been busy. I've been grinding at work and I work hella hours and I'm just so fucking tired—"

"I know, I know," he said, interrupting her. "When's the next time you're free?"

Then she gave up. She let him have it. She lost control. "Sunday," she told him.

"I'll see you Sunday, then."

"If you remember to text me," she pointed out, her tone bitter.

"I'll remember. Get home safe, Leah."

"Alright," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. And then he hung up.

She sighed deeply in the darkness of the 1999 Honda Civic, started up the ignition, and finally went home.

* * *

By late Sunday night, Paul had actually texted Leah, and they ended up sitting in his driveway, in his truck, trying to figure out what to do. It was always like this with them, and Leah wasn't really feeling it anymore.

"I'd honestly rather be at work right now," she murmured to herself, but he heard her.

"I've actually been wanting to check out Club 360 for a fat minute," Paul said. "Wanna go?"

"I work there," Leah said, making a face and shaking her head. "Not a good idea."

"We get shit half-off, though, right?"

"It's a strip club, not McDonald's," she replied bluntly, laughing slightly. "We don't get shit."

"Come _on_ , baby girl," he said. "I've never been, and you probably don't get to see the girls there dance. It'll be fun."

"You know what? Anything is more fun than sitting here," she decided.

"You down?"

"I'm down."

They got down to Club 360 in record time because of the lack of traffic, and once they got there, he began to reach into his glove compartment, where he pulled out a few stacks of twenty dollar bills.

"Damn, you've been saving up to come here, huh?" he asked.

"I told you I've been trapping," he reminded her with a devilish grin on his face. "It's date night, baby girl."

Leah snickered, not because he was funny but because this whole situation would be a great thread to start on Twitter. She tapped away at her iPhone screen for a while, only noticing that Paul had prepared a line of coke once she heard him loudly sniff it.

"Whoa," she said. "You're really gonna do that right now?"

"Come on, you know me."

Leah hadn't done coke since the last time she hung out with Paul, and that night hadn't ended well. Plus, she was literally about to go into her _job._ (She'd be a customer, anyway, but it was still a big deal.) She was stopped dead in her tracks, just staring at Paul and the coke and the red lights of the club in front of them.

"You down, baby girl?" he asked. He had a line waiting for her, and while she knew he was a dumbass, it was one of the most romantic things he'd ever done for her.

 _Fuck it_ , she thought. "I'm down."

Minutes later, she felt herself flying again, and then she realized why people went to strip clubs (besides all the naked women, obviously)—the atmosphere was too fucking fun.

Leah could feel the loud hip-hop with deep bass snake into her soul upon entering the club with Paul, and it was all exhilarating. She waved to James and all the other waitresses over by the kitchen area, and then she and Paul made their way to some of the empty seats by the main stage. The stage was long and wide, illuminated with bright blue and pink lights. There were a few poles, but there were only two girls on the stage who shared one. They were just finishing a routine to "Rake It Up," which consisted mostly of twerking.

Once the routine ended, Leah and Paul tipped them generously. They were then approached by one of the scantily clad waitresses, Leah's coworker Jessica. Leah had always gotten the impression that the twenty-one-year-old white girl was super out of place here; she looked like she belonged in a department store or a sorority or an introductory psychology class. Anywhere but here, really.

"Hey, girl," Jessica greeted Leah, teetering in her heels.

Leah was a lot more enthusiastic than usual. Cocaine was wild in that way. "Hey, how's it been tonight?" she asked.

"Not too bad, pretty steady flow of people. It's funny seeing you here on your night off."

"I know," Leah replied, gesturing to Paul. "He really wanted to come."

"Well, I hope you guys have a good time. I think Bambi's about to come on in a little while. She's really good. Oh, and she can actually dance, too"

"Bambi?" Leah asked.

"Yeah. Oh, and did you guys want anything? I could probably sneak you guys a couple drinks."

"I'm good," Leah said. She turned to Paul. "You want anything?"

"I'll take a Corona," he casually said to Jessica. Then Jessica just nodded and went off. She didn't even ask Paul for his ID.

Leah turned back to Paul. "Wow," she said, her eyes wide.

"Alright, everybody!" the DJ said over the speakers. "I need y'all to show some love for my girl Bambi!" The air was then filled with the airhorn sound effect and the various customers cheering. Leah cheered with them, unsure of who Bambi was but excited, anyway.

A slow R&B track began to play as a young woman in tall, clear, platform heels, a silver bikini top, and a matching silver G-string with extra straps in the back slinked onto the stage. She was tall in the heels, but Leah could tell she was short without them. Bambi had smooth, glistening tan skin with long, straight, platinum blonde hair that flowed nearly to her waist. Her hair moved as she did. With a face of sheer confidence, she moved towards the pole and began to twirl around it sensually, just occasionally wrapping her legs around it.

 _I like being alone  
_ _Come around here, spend plenty of time on your own  
_ ' _Cause the city ain't kind on the people who sign up for judging but can't take no  
_ _Complacent  
_ _This ain't a place to be makin' friends, they all got agendas  
_ _These eyes on your back, fangs in your neck  
_ _Thinking of venom, feigning for a taste of this shit  
_ _Seem so thirsty, smell fresh meat in the air (Blood on the floor)  
_ _So the real test, after breakfast  
_ _We'll see who's to be here_

Bambi moved sensually to this track, which had to be the sexiest song that wasn't about sex that Leah had ever heard. Towards the nearly whispered chorus, she started to climb up the pole gracefully, where she continued to twirl, her hair moving freely.

 _Spine shivers, eyes met  
Head in it, heart set  
Gold on my mind, yeah  
Ice, drippin', cold sweat  
Ice-Ice drippin', cold sweat  
Ice drippin', cold sweat  
Ice drippin', cold sweat  
Ice drippin', cold sweat_

Bambi spun around the pole, contorting her limbs to create shapes and accentuate her soft curves. Under the colorful lights, Leah could see that Bambi was super toned, too.

Now Leah understood T-Pain.

She, too, was in love with a stripper.

Bambi moved like the stage and the pole were hers, and they truly were. She would twirl around on the pole, climb to the top of it, twirl some more, and then slide gracefully into an impressive split on the stage with money raining down on here. Most of Leah's stack of twenties was gone by the time the song was over, but she wasn't fazed by it. (It also wasn't her money.)

Once the first song began to die down, it moved into the next one, which was a bit more upbeat and playful. It had to be a house favorite, because everybody was cheering now.

Bambi worked her way around stage, moving closer to the front row to move to the beat and whip her hair around.

 _'Cause I'm an addict, I'm your patient  
Your lips are the medication  
Come here baby, yeah, you know just what I want  
You got that_

 _Bom bidi bom bom bom bidi bom_  
 _Bom bidi bom bom_  
 _You give me bad, bad love_  
 _But I love it baby_  
 _Love me all night long_  
 _If you want baby, like_

 _Bom bidi bom bom bom bidi bom  
Bom bidi bom bom bom  
'Cause you're a bad, bad girl  
But I love it baby  
Love me all night long  
If you want baby, yeah_

Leah could tell Bambi was having fun as she grinned at her audience. By her smile alone, Leah knew she looked familiar, but she couldn't exactly tell. It wasn't until Leah was tucking a couple of bills into the strap of her G-string that she finally recognized her.

"Kim?!" she yelled, her voice not coming close to overpowering the music.

The dancer moved away from Leah's vicinity and to the other side of the stage to gyrate for the audience.

 _No way,_ Leah thought. _No fucking way._

 _My high school best friend—goody two-shoes, straight-A Kim, with conservative-ass parents—is a stripper now?_

 _I've got to be high as shit still._

The closer Leah looked, the more she realized this truly was Kim. She looked a little older, obviously, but the only other differences were that she was basically naked, wore dramatic makeup, and had blonde hair that was probably wig. Oh, and she had probably gotten a little work on her ass done, too, but Leah couldn't even try to knock her for it because it looked great.

They had some catching up to do, though. A lot of it.

Leah managed to convince Paul that she was going to stay for a while to talk with her boss, but she really just waited for Kim to get off work. She asked around, and apparently, Kim was supposed to be leaving soon. Leah knew she probably looked like a crackhead, waiting for her to exit through the back, but she was so bewildered.

Leah found Kim leaving just a while later, probably around 12:45. It must have been an early night for her.

"Hey, Kim," Leah greeted her, catching her at the back door.

Kim now wore a parka, jeans, and Chuck Taylors, and her blonde wig had been replaced with her own curly, dark brown hair. "Leah?" she asked, caught off guard. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I work here."

"You're not a dancer."

Leah rolled her eyes. "Obviously not. I'm a waitress."

"Makes sense. Did you just clock out or something?"

"Well, no, I came here with… this guy." She was trying her hardest not to sound crazy, and while she definitely wasn't high anymore, she was still worried. She had no idea how to approach this. "And I know this is weird, but—"

"Hold up," Kim interrupted her. "I know we didn't end on good terms, but please tell me you didn't expose me to my parents."

"I wouldn't tell your parents about you stripping," Leah disclosed bluntly.

Kim smiled slightly, her left dimple showing even in the poor lighting. "I'm glad you're still real."

"Uh-huh. I think we should catch up, though."

"I was just gonna go to bed, but I guess you can come over for a while," Kim offered. "Did you drive or did you come here with that guy?"

"I came with the guy."

"Alright, let's go."

They began to walk over to her car, a sensible Ford Fusion, and it was like they hadn't stopped being friends. It was strange and confusing, but it wasn't bad, and Leah didn't want to ruin it.

Kim didn't live too far away—she had her own penthouse apartment about ten minutes away in a different part of the town. Upon entering, Leah decided maybe she should try stripping, after all. Kim lived in luxury, even for Port Angeles.

Leah took off her shoes at the entrance and was amazed as she entered the home. She also felt wildly poor. The apartment had high ceilings and all white furniture, with some tones of pale pink in the various decorations. She also had a bunch of plants, which really elevated the overall aesthetic.

"Your place is gorgeous, holy shit," Leah breathed.

Kim shrugged out of her parka and hung it up on a hanger in the closet, exposing a vintage Britney Spears t-shirt. "Thanks, I decorated it myself." She made her way to the open concept kitchen and dining area. "Coffee?" she offered.

"You drink coffee at one in the morning now?" Leah asked, bringing her gaze to the dining area.

"Weird, I know," Kim replied. "It's good, though. It's Robusta."

"I don't know what that means, but I'll have some," Leah said.

"God, Leah, you act like you're gonna break something if you move," Kim told her. "Have a seat, get comfortable."

Leah sat down in one of the chairs and carefully set her hands on the white wood dining table. "Everything in here just seems so expensive," she observed. "Did you afford all of this from stripping?"

Kim began to brew the coffee beans in her roaster. "Actually, yeah," she replied. "Right after graduation I moved to Atlanta to get a fresh start and make music. I taught a few dance classes and wrote some songs for other people, too, but it was whatever. I was stripping a few nights a week and Atlanta strippers make _hella_ bank. Well, at least where I was."

Leah nodded, amazed. "You make music?"

"I mostly produce and write," Kim told her. "And I sing when I feel like it. That first song I danced to tonight was mine, but it's still a demo."

"You make it sound like it's no big deal," Leah said. "Like, 'Yeah, I just live in a hella nice place by myself and have hella money and make good music, too.' No big deal."

Kim smiled. "You thought my music was good?"

"Bitch, I thought it was _amazing._ I felt like T-Pain."

Kim snorted. "Alright, Leah."

"For real, though," Leah said. "You can sing. But if you were living in Atlanta and making music and making good money, why the hell did you come back up here to Washington?"

Kim simply shrugged. "I like being alone. I get that the music scene here is trash, and the stripping money isn't as good as it is in Atlanta, but I just feel so much more creative here. That's all there is to it. Stripping here is so sad, though. At least down in Atlanta it's a little more fun, but here, it's just a job for me. No passion whatsoever."

"At least you can admit that," Leah said. "A lot of girls get stuck and just strip forever."

"That couldn't be me. Too many girls in there stay for their whole lives and become full-fledged crackheads. Every dancer but me in 360 has some kind of substance problem, and it's really fuckin' sad. That's why I don't drink or smoke or do any kind of drugs at all."

Leah's eyes widened. "God, you're such a saint."

"Don't get me wrong, I still shake my ass on a pole for a living."

They both burst in laughter. "You know what I mean, though," Leah went on. "It must be really hard to stay sober with everybody around you out of their minds."

"It is," Kim agreed. "That's why anyone who enters my home has to be sober. Someone people I used to know had an issue with that, but that's their problem."

 _Hopefully she can't tell I was high_ , Leah thought.

"What about you, though?" Kim asked. "Do you make music?"

"Thanks for asking," Leah replied. "I've actually been fucking it up a little bit with a keyboard. Doing Christina Aguilera covers every now and then."

Kim raised her eyebrows. "Damn. I always knew you were the shit in middle school choir. I'm glad you kept up with it." The coffee was done brewing, and she turned to the cabinets to get some mugs. "Room for cream?"

"Yes, please."

Kim brought their cups of coffee over to the table, as well as some cream and sugar. Leah saturated her mug with the sweeteners, but Kim just took her drink black.

"So what have you been up to since high school?" Kim asked her. "It's like you dropped off the face of the earth."

Leah just pursed her lips. "I got my GED and didn't do much else," she admitted. "I've been working. Moved houses. Real boring shit."

"You moved houses?"

"My mom moved on really fast after my dad died. Got with the chief of police, Charlie Swan. We all live in this big house with Charlie and his daughter Bella. She's our age. I think she went to Forks High."

Kim nodded. "I remember her. The bitch beat me out for salutatorian."

"Wow, fuck her," Leah said bleakly.

They both laughed lightly.

"How have _you_ been, though?" Kim asked. "I mean, the last time we talked, you were really going through it."

"I was," Leah admitted. "I always am, so it's nothing new. But I've been okay. Just busy. I should probably go to therapy, but it's whatever."

"At least you have music," Kim pointed out.

"Yeah, at least I have that."

"Anyone special? How's the guy?"

Leah just rolled her eyes. "The guy is Paul. Not sure if you remember him, but he's a dumbass. I don't feel like talking about it. What about you?"

"I just broke up with my girlfriend, like, a week ago," Kim said. "She had an issue with me stripping, but that's her problem, I guess. So I've been doing my thing. Twerking along, looking for love."

Leah snickered. "I didn't know you like girls."

"Yeah, I'm bi," Kim said. "Which is cool. I think I might need therapy, too, though. I manage to fuck up every last relationship I get into for one reason or another."

"People suck," Leah concluded.

"You already know." Then Kim got up from the table. "I wanna show you something, come on."

Leah got up, bringing her cup of coffee with her, and Kim led her through the living room and down the long hallway to a closed door.

"This is, like, really nerdy," Kim began, "but I think you should see it."

"If it's your sex dungeon I really don't wanna know," Leah said.

"Oh my god, Leah." Then Kim opened the door, turned on the light, and then led Leah into the room. It was a home recording studio with computers, microphones, headphones, soundboards, a keyboard, lights, and a shit ton of other equipment that Leah couldn't even name.

"You just, like, made your own recording studio?" Leah asked.

"I had to finesse the most expensive stuff off some guys in Atlanta," Kim said, making her way to the main computer and sitting down in the spinning chair, "but yeah. I ate only cup noodles for two weeks after buying the rest of the stuff, though."

Leah ran her hands along the main soundboard. "Anything else you wanna flex on me, Kim?"

"I'm not trying to flex anything on you," Kim said. "But—and I know this sounds lame—I'm really glad we're talking again. I don't have any friends, and even though I don't need any either, I really like having you around."

A moment of silence passed between the two of them. "What does this studio have to do with that, then?" Leah finally asked.

"I think we could really fuck some shit up," Kim told her. "Simple."

"I see you have a keyboard," Leah mentioned, her gaze falling on the black and white keys.

"I took lessons as a kid, but it's not much so I do the rest of the work by ear."

Leah sat down on the bench in front of the keyboard. "Do you have perfect pitch?" she wondered, pressing the power button to turn it on.

"Relatively," Kim replied.

"You know, I've been working on a cover of 'Broken Clocks' by SZA for a little while. It would be nice to actually record it on something other than my phone."

"You should try it out," Kim suggested. "F-sharp major, right?"

"I don't know, I don't read music."

"You taught yourself how to play?"

Leah shrugged. "I just use chords and shit." Then she let her fingers flow freely across the keys, getting used to the feel. The machine had a nice resonance in the grand piano setting. When Leah closed her eyes, it almost felt like a real piano. She'd never played one before, of course, but she could still imagine.

 _Run fast from my day job  
Runnin' fast from the way it was  
Jump quick to a paycheck  
Runnin' back to the strip club  
I'm never going back, never going back  
No you can't make me  
Never going back, never going back  
They'll never take me_

 _I've paid enough of petty dues  
I've heard enough of shitty news  
I've had a thing for dirty shoes since I was ten  
Love dirty men alike  
Oooh  
Better day than yesterday  
Oooh, oh  
I just take it day by day  
Oooh, oh oh  
Never hearing what they say  
Oooh, oooh  
I just do it my way_

Leah could feel her voice shaking from her nerves. She'd never sang in front of somebody by herself. She loved to sing and didn't care who heard if she was in the car or the shower, but this was different. Especially in front of someone who actually _made_ music.

Thankfully, Kim joined in at the chorus. She sang an octave lower even though Leah would have originally assumed she was a soprano, based on her own music that she had recorded. Kim's voice was calm and girly underneath Leah's emotional shakiness.

 _All I got is these broken clocks  
I ain't got no time  
Just burning daylight  
Still love and it's still love, and it's still love  
It's still love, still love, still love  
It's still love but it's still love  
Nothin' but love for you  
Nothin' but love  
Nothin' but love_

Leah abruptly stopped playing and just sighed.

"What?" Kim asked.

"Why didn't we record that?"

"Don't worry about all that, Lee," Kim assured her. "We still have time."

And for once, time was on Leah's side.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** In case anybody didn't get the impression, this is a big cheesy songfic. (Yes, I know it's 2018.) But I'm having fun and hope y'all will too. Hit that review button._

 _Take care,_

 _HS_


	3. 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Twilight Saga or its characters. I don't own shit.

 _ **A/N**_ : _Hey, y'all. I'm back with anotha one. Pretty soon I'll be working full-time so I'm not sure when I'll be updating, but I'll certainly try since writing this story is so much fun. This chapter is a bit shorter than the last ones, and I really tried to not make it so short, but I didn't want to write ALL this AND introduce another arc, so I hope y'all understand._

 _Here's chapter 3 of Girl Gang. And this is unrelated (well, kinda, bc this fic is about music), but happy belated birthday to Ariana Grande, who, in fact, run pop._

* * *

 **3.**

Prior to living with Bella, Leah used to think that _she_ had boy problems. However, this girl was on a whole different level. She and Edward were the most on-and-off couple Leah had ever seen in real life. It was so bad that Bella moved back home with Charlie, Sue, Seth, and Leah by her birthday, in mid-September. It was unfortunate and kind of painful for Leah to watch, but it was also somewhat poetic. The sheer irony of finally not being a teenager anymore paired with moving back home on Bella's twentieth birthday was bewildering.

So Bella had boy problems, and she had grown easier to read. Bella wasn't that different from Leah, it turned out—they both turned to shutting themselves in their rooms and making music. Leah had noticed a vague acoustic guitar playing sometimes in the house, but she usually just ignored it. It was usually more noticeable when Bella was more upset, though.

Since she had come back home, the girl had been _hurt._

From what it sounded like, Bella just sang really sad covers of pop songs. She had a warm, earthy, indie pop voice that usually sang in an octave lower than the original track, but when she sang higher in her range, she sounded like a baby bird—soft and sweet, as well as a little broken.

Leah felt kind of like a perv for being so interested in a hobby that was so personal in its very nature, but she couldn't help it. She was a music lover and Bella just so happened to make good music.

One night on her way to the kitchen from her own keyboard session, Leah found herself quietly perched in the hallway, just behind Bella's bedroom door. She was fascinated at the fact that Bella had managed to make a light, bubbly bop by Carly Rae Jepsen sound so… moody.

" _If you're gonna go then go"  
She said to me on the phone  
"So tired of hearin' all your boy problems  
If you're gonna stay then stay  
He's not gonna change anyway  
So tired of hearin' all your boy problems"_

Bella suddenly stopped singing, and Leah scrambled to her bedroom, feeling like an embarrassed middle schooler. She was too embarrassed to go down to the kitchen like she was supposed to all this time.

"Jesus," Leah whispered as she shut her door quietly. She should've probably stuck to minding her business. After all, making music was personal. Leah should've understood that more than anybody. She turned back to her keyboard, picked up where she'd left off, and let Bella do her own thing in her own privacy.

* * *

The idea of Bella and her guitar remained a private one until her obligatory birthday dinner, the Friday after the 13th. The Swan-Clearwater household went out to The Lodge, and while it wasn't Bella's favorite place in the world to eat, she couldn't just say no.

Leah felt bad for Bella—she could feel the awkwardness radiating through the rounded booth.

"So you're twenty now," Sue began as the server came to the table with everybody's ice waters. "What are you gonna do?"

"What, like with my life?" Bella asked in response.

Sue nodded, smiling. "I hear you went to PenCol last year. Are you enrolled for fall quarter?"

"I totally missed the deadline for fall quarter," Bella told her curtly, reaching for her glass of water to take a sip. "I'm not going."

"Oh," Sue said, only moderately off-guard. "I thought you were into Psychology or Philosophy or one of those…"

"Anthropology," Bella corrected her. "But I'd have to transfer to a university to complete my bachelor's degree and then go to grad school after that, and I don't feel like being in school for that long."

"You did so well in high school, though, Bells," Charlie said. "You were salutatorian."

"High school is so different from college, Dad," she replied. "And besides, not everybody is meant for college."

"You are, though," he encouraged her. "Maybe you should just complete your associate's degree."

"Maybe," she said dismissively, and then Charlie dropped it.

The server came back to take their orders, and when she left, Seth piped up.

"I've been hearing you play your guitar and singing a lot," he said to Bella. "You're really good and I think you should keep at it. That's just my opinion, though."

Bella began to blush, the redness spreading throughout her entire face. Just before she blushed was when Leah realized she had freckles. "Thanks, Seth," Bella said.

"And I know damn well you can sing and play, too," Sue said pointedly to Leah. "You two should start a band."

Leah snorted. "Right. A band of two girls, their instruments, and depression."

Bella was the only other person to laugh; Sue, Charlie, and Seth just gave them strange looks.

"Anyway," Charlie began slowly, "you two might as well start a band since neither of you are in school."

"I don't know about all that," Leah said, shaking her head. "I still have work and stuff."

"And I'm going back to the Newtons' shop soon," Bella added. "You know, being an adult and all that."

"It was just a suggestion," Charlie replied, and then he dropped it again.

The rest of dinner went as blandly as Leah had expected, except she couldn't help but indulge a little bit into the fantasy of being in a band. Getting paid to make music with people she didn't entirely hate? It was damn near unrealistic.

* * *

When everyone got home at around seven that night, Leah didn't feel inspired enough to return to her keyboard. She was still too fucking scared to post her covers on YouTube. So far she had recorded covers to "Genie in a Bottle" by Christina Aguilera and "Born To Make You Make You Happy" by Britney Spears (because she was old school and really liked sad pop songs), but she couldn't bring herself to upload them.

 _Of course I can talk shit on Twitter without any type of remorse_ , she thought, _but when it comes to something I actually care about, I can't even get the guts to share it. God, I'm the dumbest bitch alive._

So she turned to YouTube for inspiration. Maybe if she found some terrible covers, she wouldn't feel so bold for uploading her own.

Leah scrolled through the app, through various Britney Spears covers. So many people loved to talk shit about Britney, but they loved to cover her songs, too. It was incredible. She had listened to portions of at least four different covers of "Everytime" until she found another cover uploaded by a YouTube user with a familiar face.

"Everytime (Acoustic Guitar Cover)" - sadhoe109

She clicked on the video, which was uploaded only a week ago, and there was sadhoe109.

Or Bella.

This video had clearly been recorded in her bedroom here in Forks. Sunlight from a nearby window streamed across her face, highlighting her freckles and her chocolate brown eyes. She looked so _natural_ holding her guitar. She was in her happy place, her comfort zone.

Bella smiled at the camera, which made Leah realize how little she truly saw her smile, and she lived with the girl.

"Hi, guys, it's sadhoe109, Bella, whatever you wanna call me," she said easily, her smile genuine. "I'm back with another cover. In case you didn't notice, I like old pop songs. Obviously. Today I'm gonna cover 'Everytime' by Britney Spears. It's one of my favorite songs ever, and I can't wait to share it with you guys."

The video cut to the next scene, and now Bella was strumming her guitar. Her cover was moody and lower than Britney's by an octave, naturally.

 _Notice me  
Take my hand  
Why are we  
Strangers when  
Our love is strong  
Why carry on without me?_

 _Everytime I try to fly, I fall  
_ _Without my wings, I feel so small  
_ _I guess I need you baby  
_ _And everytime I see you in my dreams  
_ _I see your face, it's haunting me  
_ _I guess I need you baby_

Leah couldn't help but become invested. The way Bella played and sang was so natural—she had the entire singer-songwriter vibe going for her and it was beautiful. She wasn't a perfect singer, but she carried herself like she didn't give a fuck regarding what anyone thought. She sang for herself—she sang to her heartbreak.

 _So what the fuck am I so afraid for?_ Leah thought.

She couldn't believe she was learning something about music from Bella Swan, of all people, just when she thought nobody could tell her anything.

Leah's favorite part of the video was the bridge leading up to the final chorus, in which Bella made her way up an octave higher, her baby bird voice shining through and reliving every heartbreak that Britney felt 14 years ago, back in 2003.

 _I may have made it rain  
_ _Please forgive me  
_ _My weakness caused you pain  
_ _And this song is my sorry_

Bella strummed along to her own arrangement, humming idly, and that was when it hit Leah. Everything at once.

 _At night I pray  
_ _That soon your face  
_ _Will fade away_

 _Everytime I try to fly, I fall  
Without my wings, I feel so small  
I guess I need you baby  
And everytime I see you in my dreams  
I see your face, you're haunting me  
I guess I need you baby_

Leah didn't know why, but by the end, she had shed a single tear.

 _Shit._

She liked the video and subscribed to Bella's channel, not caring how weird it may have seemed. Then she copied and pasted the link to the video and texted Kim.

 _Oh my god, BITCH_ , Leah messaged.

Kim texted back instantly. _Who is this girl in the video?_

 _Bella Swan, my lowkey stepsister._

 _Ohh this is the girl who beat me out for salutatorian._

 _Yes but that's besides the point. Watch it!_

Kim didn't text back for about four minutes, the duration of the video.

 _Ooookay_ , she finally wrote. _This was good. Really good._

 _I know omfg. I wasn't expecting her to be that good tbh._

 _I'm screaming at sadhoe109 tho._

 _Me too._

 _Lykke Li is shaking._

Leah cackled aloud. _STOP,_ she wrote.

 _For real tho_ , Kim said. _Despite her beating me out for salutatorian… I like her. Bring her by my studio tonight._

 _Tonight?! Why don't you invite her?_

 _I don't live with her… duh._

 _Idk how to go about it without being creepy._

 _Come ON lee. Pleaseee?_

Leah sighed. _Okay. I'll talk to her. She's a lil awkward tho, idk if she'll want to_

 _Make her want to. She's too good to pass up. I'm home whenever you wanna slide thru, just lmk when you're pulling up._

 _Okaaaay Kim._

Kim then sent her a series of heart emojis.

Leah threw her phone down on her bed. This was all a little crazy, but she wasn't too bothered by it.

* * *

Leah nervously knocked on Bella's bedroom door, and it opened it almost instantly. Leah peered behind her and saw an open laptop sitting on Bella's desk with YouTube pulled up. Leah guessed she was about to upload her sad hoe cover of "Boy Problems."

 _God, what a creative person._

Before Leah could say anything, Bella spoke first. "I saw you subscribed to my YouTube channel," she said. "And I know I'm not that good, but just…" She sighed, shutting her eyes only to reopen them almost instantly. "This is, like, my own little hobby and super personal and—"

"Chill," Leah said. "I get it. It's almost the same for me. And your cover of 'Everytime' is… incredible. I wish I had the guts to post myself singing."

"Oh," Bella said, and Leah could see her finally calm down. "Well, thanks."

"You're welcome. So I showed my friend your video."

"Oh my god," Bella murmured.

"No, no, listen," Leah said. "She has a recording studio in her apartment and she really wants you to come by."

"That sounds creepy, like when a photographer from Instagram says he wants to take pictures of you, except when you get there you're suddenly naked and he doesn't even have a camera."

Leah rolled her eyes. "I know," she said. "But my friend makes music, too—well, I guess we all do—and she has her studio _hooked_ up. It's amazing."

Bella furrowed her brows. "When does she want me over?"

"Tonight. She's home whenever we wanna go over."

"Jeez, sounds desperate," Bella said. "I'm in, I guess."

"Damn, really?" Leah asked.

"I've never been to a recording studio before," Bella replied. "I mean, we live out _here_ in the boonies."

"True."

"What's your friend's name?"

"Kim. Kim Conweller."

"That name is, like… super familiar."

"You beat her out for salutatorian," Leah reminded her. "Whatever that means."

"She still cares about that? Graduation was over a year ago."

"Yeah, I don't know."

"Alright, lemme just finish uploading something to YouTube and then I can pack up my stuff and we can go," Bella said.

"'Boy Problems'?" Leah asked.

"How do you know that song?"

"Everybody should know that song."

"I mean, how'd you know I was gonna upload a cover of that song?"

"The walls here aren't soundproof," Leah told her. "And after finding out about your channel, it was an easy guess."

"Oh," Bella said bleakly.

"Go finish uploading your talent to the masses, sad hoe," Leah instructed. "We've gotta dip."

* * *

Leah and Kim had made it to Kim's Port Angeles penthouse apartment within the next hour and a half. After texting Kim and buzzing in (Leah had always wanted to do that), the girls had entered the wealthier girls' place. Leah quickly decided that she would never get over it.

"God, this place seems even nicer," she breathed, staring up at the high ceilings.

Once Bella removed her shoes, she awkwardly eased out of her zipped hoodie while trying not to drop her backpack and guitar case. Kim took her hoodie to the coat closet. "You have an amazing home," she told Kim.

"Thanks, Bella," Kim replied. She was dressed casually, in a pink joggers and hoodie set.

"I'm surprised you remembered my name so easily," Bella said.

"Come on, we had so many classes together senior year," Kim pointed out. "AP Gov, AP Calc, AP Biology, AP Lit…"

"Okay, we get it, you guys are both smart," Leah said, rolling her eyes.

"And neither of us are in college," Bella said to Kim cheerily.

"Exactly," Kim replied. "Leah clued me in on your name, anyway, though."

"I see."

"Let me give you a tour of the place," Kim suggested.

"What have you been up to tonight, Kim?" Leah asked as she showed them through the living room, kitchen, and hallway, leading down to the studio.

"Well, since it's my day off," she replied, "I've mostly just been practicing my dances for work and playing around for a little bit in the studio."

"It wouldn't surprise me if you had a pole in one of these rooms," Leah said, which prompted Kim to open one of the doors on the left side of the hallway, exposing a smaller room with a shimmering metal pole running from the floor to the ceiling.

"Oh, you're a stri—exotic dancer?" Bella asked Kim, her voice small.

"You can say 'stripper,' it's not a dirty word," Kim told her, shutting the door. "And yes."

 _Wow_ , Bella mouthed.

They finally made it to the studio, and Bella was as amazed as Leah had been. She set down her backpack and guitar case and made her way to the soundboards. Leah took a seat next to Kim.

"Leah was right," Bella said. "You really did hook this up, Kim."

"Thank you," Kim replied, smiling. She sat in her spinning chair in front of the main computer and logged in. She opened up a program that Leah couldn't catch the name of, and she pulled up a list of files. "By the way, Leah," she said, "I finally got the time to mix our cover of 'Broken Clocks' and I wanted you to hear it."

"Oh, cool," Leah replied. "Lemme hear it."

"SZA's 'Broken Clocks'?" Bella asked, leaning against the wall.

Both Leah and Kim nodded, both thinking fondly on that night just a few weeks ago, and then Kim played the track.

Leah's voice (accompanied with Kim's harmonies at some parts) filled the air through the elaborate speaker setup of the studio, and the recording was actually super polished, with Leah's piano and some extra beats and bass added in to make it sound more similar to the original track.

Leah couldn't believe it—she actually sounded… well, good.

She sounded like an artist.

The three girls listened in silence, just taking it all in. Once it was all over, Leah felt so happy that she could almost die.

"You mixed that so well," she told Kim. "Oh my god."

"Thanks," Kim replied, "but you did the actual work. You're a great vocalist."

"Yeah, you sounded really good on that, Leah," Bella added.

"It's your turn," Kim told Bella with a grin on her face.

Bella's body language suddenly grew uncomfortable; it was like she was shrinking back into her shell. "I already recording and uploaded the next cover I wanted to do," she replied to Kim.

"'Boy Problems'?" Kim asked. "Yeah, I saw before you guys came here. It was good."

"Thanks."

"Just because you're done doesn't mean there's no room for improvement, though," Kim pointed out, clicking around on her computer. "Besides, you brought your guitar."

"I mean, I guess," Bella said.

"What are you scared for?" Leah asked. "You clearly have the talent."

'It's just…" Bella pondered on that for a moment, looking down to the floor at her guitar case with a conflicted expression. "How am I gonna compete with _that_?"

"With what, Leah's cover?" Kim asked.

"Yeah."

"It's literally not a competition, Bella," Leah told her, smug on the inside.

"But," Kim said, turning away from the computer, "you absolutely don't have to record anything if you're not comfortable."

"I just didn't think I'd get to be in an actual recording studio," Bella replied bluntly.

"Trust me, this isn't an _actual_ studio." Kim shook her head. "The real ones are way more advanced than this."

"Still, though."

"Whatever you say, I guess. Do you guys wanna hear a demo I've been working on?"

"Hell yeah," Leah said. "Put it on."

Kim turned back to the computer and pulled up an audio draft on a computer program. She clicked play, and a track began to play. There were no lyrics, oddly enough, and it started out slowly, with ominous synths. Once the assumed chorus hit, there was a booming bassline that the three girls couldn't help but nod their heads to. It was, essentially, an electropop song with trap influences—just without any lyrics. The track was a little over a minute long—it just got past the first chorus.

"That was cute," Leah said. "Sounded like The Weeknd's old stuff, but still cute."

Before Kim could say anything, Bella interjected, "Did you produce that all yourself?"

Kim just nodded at her solemnly. Her face wasn't entirely pleased with her demo.

" _Here_?" Bella asked.

"Yes, I produced it myself, here," Kim clarified.

"So what are you gonna do with it?" Leah asked. "Sell it? Put your own lyrics?"

"I've hit such a bad writer's block," Kim admitted, "so I don't even know. I've got some hooks for it in my head, but they're not that good." She sighed, clearly frustrated. "I usually have a vision for what I want a song to be when I start crafting it, and this demo took me _forever_ , but I still don't have anything good."

"Not gonna lie, I was humming my own lyrics to a song I was working on a long time ago," Bella told Kim. "So if you need a last resort for a hook, you could try that. You don't have to, though. I only wrote half of the song."

"You write, too?" Kim asked, her eyebrows raised.

"On the low-low," Bella replied, shrugging her shoulders.

Kim smirked devilishly. "Alright, sad hoe, show me what you've got."

 _Fuck, I wish I was creative,_ Leah thought.

Bella began to take her guitar out of its case, along with a journal from her backpack. She flipped to the middle of ink-splattered notebook and pulled up a page. She set the laptop down on the desk next to the computer and began to quickly tune up her guitar.

"'Guys My Age'?" Leah read over Bella's shoulder. The title was scribbled at the top of the page.

"That's just a working title," Bella said. "I started writing this when I was, like, seventeen and just broke up with my ex for the first time." She finished tuning the instrument and turned to Kim. "Your demo is a little bit faster than my tempo, but I can keep up. Could you play it?"

"Yeah. You'll need a mic, too, though." Kim set up a nearby microphone and positioned it so Bella could sit comfortably with her guitar and sing at the same time.

Kim ran the track at a lower volume than usual, and Bella peered over at her notebook as she strummed along to the demo and sang her own lyrics.

 _Haven't seen my ex since we broke up  
_ _Probably 'cause he didn't wanna grow up  
_ _Now I'm out here wearing something low-cut  
_ ' _Bout to get attention from a grown-up_

Nervous and self-critical, Bella winced at her lyrics but kept going.

' _Cause you hold me like a woman  
_ _In a way I've never felt before  
_ _And it makes me wanna hold on  
_ _And it makes me wanna be all yours_

 _Guys my age don't know how to treat me  
Don't know how to treat me, don't know how to treat me  
Guys my age don't know how to touch me  
Don't know how to love me good  
Guys my age don't know how to keep me  
Don't know how to keep me, don't know how to keep me  
Guys my age don't know how to touch me  
Don't know how to love me good_

The demo ended, and Bella brought herself away from the microphone. She let out a breath of relief. "That's all I got."

"Damn," Kim said. "Have you dated a thirty-four-year-old or something?"

Bella smiled. "No, but I've considered it. I don't know what seventeen-year-old me was thinking, but that's that."

"How old are you?"

"Just turned twenty this past week."

Kim was beaming. "Aww, I love Virgos. I'm a Taurus."

Bella just smiled harder.

"Do y'all need some alone time?" Leah asked. "'Cause I can leave."

"Okay, Leah," Kim said, rolling her eyes. "Well, what did you think?"

"I think that song has 'daddy issues' written all over it," Leah said bluntly. "I love it."

Bella and Kim laughed, causing Leah to laugh, too.

"I don't know how I feel about the guitar over the synth, though," Kim said, once they all quieted down.

"What do you mean?" Bella asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

"They just clash, that's all."

"Maybe you could try it with just the guitar, then. I mean, a real instrument wouldn't sound that bad under all that extra production."

"Okay, Taylor Swift," Leah said, cracking up.

"No, really," Bella went on. "There's so much going on in the demo. If you stripped the verses down by having a real instrument and maybe a little bass, then the pre-chorus and the chorus would hit _that_ much harder. But I'm not a producer, so my opinion just might be invalid."

"No, no, you're valid," Kim countered. "A synthesizer is a real instrument, though."

Bella's voice was blunt. "Not really."

"Whatever. We can try it out."

The next couple of hours were spent remixing the track, which the girls decided to name "Guys My Age." They took away the synth, added the guitar, took out the guitar, added in the piano, took out the piano, put the guitar back in, decided they would need to make it an electric guitar later on, and wrote and recorded the rest of the song. Leah didn't feel qualified enough to comment on the production, but writing the song was actually fun. Of course, the lyrics weren't the most intellectually stimulating, but it was catchy and had a hook that wouldn't stay out of her head for the rest of the night.

She could do this shit forever.

It was one in the morning by the time they had finished mixing and recording the track. Leah had done most of the heavy vocal work. While Bella and Kim had the range to get up to the higher octave at the pre-chorus (which Kim had insisted on being higher in order to contradict the lower deliveries of the verses and chorus), they didn't have the power that Leah did. Leah had also contributed a strong vocal run before the final chorus that elevated the song even further.

So at one in the morning, the girls retreated to the kitchen area, where Kim made hot drinks and toasted bagels to celebrate their hard work.

"That was fun," Leah said, stirring in cream and sugar to her coffee.

"Super fun," Bella agreed as she dipped a tea bag into her cup of hot water.

Kim made her way to the dining table with a plate of bagels, a tub of cream cheese, utensils, and her own cup of black coffee. "I just feel like something is missing," she admitted.

"Don't you ever relax?" Leah asked her, grabbing a bagel. "We've literally been working for five hours."

"Yeah," Bella added. "Producing _and_ recording a song in one night is crazy."

"I've done more," Kim replied. "But, I mean, if we're gonna be a _thing_ , I think we're missing a certain type of voice."

Leah and Bella looked at each other dubiously. "I didn't know we were a thing," Bella said.

"My voice is sweet and high," Kim told Bella. "Your voice is…" She faltered.

"Weak," Bella finished.

"Shut _up_ ," Leah interjected.

"I was gonna say indie, but not an annoying indie like almost all the girls on the radio right now."

Bella just pursed her lips.

"And Leah," Kim continued. "You've got the powerhouse vocals."

"Meaning…" Leah prompted.

"Bitch, you can belt."

Leah shrugged. "I mean, yeah. So what are we missing?"

"I think we'd be the perfect group with a deeper voice added in the mix."

"I'm already an octave lower than both of you just by breathing," Bella pointed out.

"No, I mean, like, alto deep."

"You're such an idealist, Kim," Leah said in between bites of her bagel. "Just when I thought we made something great, you told us we ain't shit."

"I did not say that," Kim retorted. "I know we're pretty solid, trust me. I'm just thinking aloud." She sipped from her cup of coffee, her eyes staring somewhere far off.

"We kind of just created a banger," Bella said fondly. "Not everybody can say that."

"I mean, there are plenty of daddy issues bangers," Leah countered, "but we've definitely added on to the catalogue, unofficially."

"The original lyrics were really compelling," Kim said. "You must've been going through something deep, Bella."

"I mean, I was seventeen," Bella reminded them. "At that point I'd been with my ex for, like, two years and we just broke up for the first time. We ending up getting back together and breaking up and getting back together a bunch of times after that, but that shit _hurt_ at the moment. I really wanted to go out and fuck a thirty-four-year-old out of spite, but I knew I was too scared to actually do that, so I just started writing that song instead."

"Was it your first song?" Kim asked.

Bella shook her head. "Nah. It's the first one I've ever been even slightly proud of, though. And it remains relevant, which is a plus. Guys my age _still_ don't fucking know how to treat me, and that's why we're broken up now."

"Jesus, if that hasn't been my whole mood," Leah grumbled.

"Are you still with that guy?" Kim asked her.

Leah shrugged her shoulders. She hadn't thought of Paul in a while, she realized. "We talk here and there," she said. "But it's nothing crazy. He's out being a dumbass or whatever he usually does."

"Relatable," Bella added.

"Shit, I guess I've gotta go fuck a thirty-four-year-old," Leah said, and then they all laughed.

Just months ago, Leah couldn't have imagined herself laughing and making music with Bella and Kim, of all people. And while this night was entirely unexpected, she didn't mind. It was human. It was _real_.

* * *

 _ **A/N** : I'll update when I can._

 _Take care,_

 _HS_


End file.
